


Roads Less Traveled

by jensenacklesruinedmylife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AND BY MINOR CHARACTER DEATH I MEAN SAM WINCHESTER, Adventure, Angst, Best Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hotels, M/M, Minor Character Death, Motels, Road Trips, Romance, Wakes & Funerals, this fic is gonna be REALLY LONG
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:16:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jensenacklesruinedmylife/pseuds/jensenacklesruinedmylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his brother dies, Dean Winchester is a wreck. His best friend Castiel graduates a few weeks later, and Dean feels completely alone. In an effort to avoid going off the deep end, Dean decides to go on a road trip, and manages to convince Cas to go with him.</p><p>On the way, however, emotions are tested, lines are crossed, and things get extremely complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad News

Sam died on his birthday.

Dean had actually laughed,  _fucking laughed_ when they called time of death at 12:01AM on Monday, May 2nd. His phone had gone off, reminding him that it was his brother's birthday, and Dean laughed. That, of course, got him sent upstairs for a psych eval.

"You're experiencing grief," the psychiatrist had told him, her tone somber, and Dean scoffed.

"Well no shit, Sherlock," came Dean's reply. "You went through four years of med school to tell me that I'm grieving over my little brother's recent death. I better not be paying for this session, because I'm pretty sure a 12 year old with a textbook could have figured that out."

He was sent home after that.

He decided to skip all his classes that week, not caring that finals were just around the corner. He was completely content with barely passing his classes; he could always get his GPA back up during the two semesters he had left of college. He spent days wandering around the apartment he shared with Sam, avoiding their bedroom at all costs, eating whatever he could find in the pantry, and drowning himself in booze. 

By Friday, Dean's entire body ached from sleeping on the couch in the small living room. That morning he was woken up, quite unpleasently, by loud, incessant knocking on his apartment door. 

"Go away!" he yelled, the first words he said aloud since he got back to his apartment that Monday. The words cracked uncomfortably in his throat and he sat up, intent on getting some water, when the person at the door yelled back.

"Dean Johnathan Winchester, if you don't open this door right now, I swear to God!"

 _Cas?_  

Dean wondered how he could have forgotten about his best friend. He hadn't told anyone about what happened, but he told Cas  _everything._ He was certain that he had heard the news by now, though. Tragedy had a way of getting around in Baldwin City, Kansas. _Especially when a high schooler gets T-boned by an 18-wheeler and doesn't die on impact. Instead, he dies at the hospital, on the table, while his big brother, who practically raised him, watches from a window, clutching the necklace he got so many years ago from the one person he called family._

"Dean! If you don't open up, I'm coming in myself!" 

Dean snapped out of his thoughts and lifted himself off the couch, his knees cracking in the process. The knocking was replaced by the sound of jangling keys, and Dean knew Cas was looking for the spare that Dean had given him the year he and Sam moved in, for emergencies. 

_I guess this qualifies as an emergency._

When Dean finally opened the door, Cas looked up from where he was crouching on the floor digging through his bag. 

"Dean," he said softly, pulling the bag back over his shoulder and rising until he and Dean were face-to-face. He looked worn, and upset, and tired, but Dean imagined he didn't look much better himself.

"Hey, Cas," he greeted with a small smile. He was about to say something else when Cas grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a strong hug. If anyone else had done that, Dean would have pulled away immediately. But this was his best friend, who had obviously heard the news, trying to comfort him. If Dean was honest with himself, he felt almost numb, but it was nice to feel the warmth of another body around him. 

The hug ended too soon as Cas moved to look Dean in the face. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, eyes glazing over, but Dean could only shrug his shoulders. Cas sighed, and hugged Dean again for a long time. Afterwards, they walked into the the apartment, Cas leading Dean by the elbow into the bathroom.

"You smell," he deadpanned, "so brush your teeth and take a shower. I'll clean the place up a bit."

"Cas -,"

"Take a fucking shower, Dean. I'll be here when you're done." 

Dean hated feeling like he needed help, but according to the door that just slammed in his face, Cas wasn't giving him a choice. So he turned on the shower and let it run while he looked for his toothbrush.

When he found it in the cupboard next to Sam's, he felt his stomach lurch and fell to his knees before leaning over toilet to throw up. 


	2. Hello Alone

The sound of retching came from the bathroom, making Castiel’s own stomach twist. He’d skipped breakfast that morning, too panic-stricken to eat anything. As a senior, Cas had managed to sign up for classes early enough that he freed up his Friday’s for his last semester of college. It had been a busy week for Cas, with graduation only a couple weeks away. He spent most of his time on campus, where he lived in his own apartment. He didn’t bother looking for a roommate; Dean spent so much time there during the day, it’s like he practically lived on his sofa. On the weekends, Cas would drive half an hour to Sam and Dean’s place and hang out with them, but for the past month, he simply hadn’t had the time.

_I should have found the time._

Castiel started cleaning in the kitchen, sighing as he turned on the faucet to start washing the massive pile of dishes in the sink. He’d woken up that morning with no plans besides some passive studying, and maybe asking some friends to go see a movie later. He’d collapsed on his sofa with a bowl of Cheerios and turned on the television only to be greeted with a picture of Sam Winchester’s face. Confused, he’d turned up the volume and listened as the reporter described the truck accident that killed the high school junior.

_…and although he survived the initial crash, the honor student was pronounced dead early Monday morning at the hospital. Doctors stated that complications with internal bleeding led to…_

Cas had dropped his cereal bowl then, milk splashing on his lounge pants as he ran back into his bedroom to throw on some actual clothes, grab his keys, and speed over to the Winchester’s apartment. Now, here he was, washing Dean’s dishes. Because Dean’s brother was dead. Sam was _dead,_ gone, on the other side.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Cas heard Dean say from somewhere behind him. Startled, he whipped around with a dish in his hands to see a damp Dean, his navy blue shirt sticking to him like a second skin. He’d put on the same jeans he had been wearing before, but Cas pretended not to notice.

“Feeling any better?” Cas asked as he turned back toward the sink to dry off the last of the dishes and turn off the faucet. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to hold Dean for hours and tell him how _sorry_ he was, he wanted to sit and cry and scream with Dean, but he couldn’t do any of those things. Dean Winchester didn’t express his emotions – not directly, anyway. If Castiel wanted to get Dean talking, he’d have to take a peripheral route, and be very, _very_ patient.

“Well I don’t smell like a dumpster anymore, so I guess that’s a good thing,” Dean replied. He trailed his bare feet along the kitchen floor and leaned over to open the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. He looked up before closing the door. “Want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” Cas answered, drying of his hands on the towel hanging from a cupboard doorknob. After throwing away empty food cans and placing half empty boxes back inside the pantry, he sat down at the island in the center of the cramped kitchen, across from where Dean was already sitting, sipping his water. Castiel was surprised he hadn’t grabbed a beer.

“Out of alcohol?” he asked playfully, and Dean chuckled.

“Ran out last night,” he rolled his eyes, “but I’m not sure how smart it would be to get more.”

“Probably not a good idea,” Cas agreed, leaning back in the chair he sat on. He tapped his fingers against the wood that made up the surface of the island, his gaze falling just left of Dean’s shoulder. He didn’t want to look directly at Dean; Dean would read that as a challenge, a demand - a threat.  

“I don’t wanna talk about it –.”

“No one is making you talk about anything,” Cas interrupted.

“- yet,” Dean finished. “Not yet.”

“That’s fine,” Cas replied. He looked at Dean now. His green eyes lacked their usual shine, and it made Castiel’s heart sink. _He’s broken,_ Cas thought. _He’s broken again and he won’t let anyone help him carry the pieces._

“You would think,” Dean said suddenly, “that by the third time, it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

Castiel frowned. He knew where this was going. “Dean, don’t –.”

“You would think, the third time someone you love is ripped away from you, the pain wouldn’t be so sharp, ya know? But this…” Dean shook his head, his fists clenching. “This feels worse than the first two times. This feels like I’ve been ripped right down the middle. Like someone took a chain saw and just –.” Dean made a buzzing sound with his mouth, and used his hands to act out the motion of cutting something in half. He laughed after that, a cold, empty laugh that actually scared Cas a bit. He winced.

“Dean,” Cas began, sitting up and leaning closer, “we don’t have to talk about it.”

“I know,” Dean shrugged, chugging the rest of his water and emptying the bottle. He turned in his chair so he was facing Castiel. “But you’re graduating, Cas. You’re leaving, right? Going to see your family back in Montana?”

“Well that was the plan, but I can always reschedule, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes softened at that, and Cas made up his mind.

“I’ll reschedule, okay? They don’t need me, and all my younger siblings are in school until June anyway. Mom will have Michael and Raphael to boss around.”

“But your older brothers are dicks,” Dean said plainly. Cas laughed.

“I know, but they do as they’re told. I’ll call my mother later and tell her –.”

“You haven’t told her yet?” Dean asked, sounding surprised.

It took Castiel a moment to realize what Dean was referring to. “Dean, I only found out this morning.”

“Oh.”

They were silent for a few minutes. Dean played with his necklace, and Cas tried not to look as upset as he felt. This whole situation was a mess, and he was still coming to terms with the fact that his friend was dead. Sam may have been five years younger than Cas, but he spoke with a maturity that Cas respected and grew to love. They weren’t as close as he and Dean, but Cas treated Sam like another younger brother.

“Sam is gone,” Dean whispered, breaking the silence. Cas reached out and grabbed one of Dean’s hands then, and Dean didn’t pull away. He brought his head up and closed his eyes, and Cas could see that one tear had made it past Dean’s emotional fort.

“Sam is gone, and I’m alone.”


	3. Yesterdays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a flashback chapter, to give you guys some background on how Dean and Cas (and Sam *sobs*) got to where they are now.

Dean’s mother had died when he was four years old. She worked at a diner that caught fire. Sam was only a baby, and his father tried to be strong for them, but losing Mary probably hurt his father the most. When Dean was in middle school, they moved to Sioux Falls, South Dakota to be closer to their Uncle Bobby. That’s when things started getting bad.

John Winchester had a quick temper and a drinking problem. Combine those two things, and you got a very unsafe household. Sam grew up with Bobby and Dean raising him, while Dean grew up cleaning up his father’s messes. He was in a dark place for a while, and while he could hide it from Sammy, his uncle Bobby knew him all too well. He started high school with no hope of graduating, but then, he met Castiel.

Castiel Milton was the first kid to ever stand up to Dean, besides Sam. It was the second or third week of school, Dean could never remember specifically, and Dean had just failed a biology quiz. Cas sat behind him in class and saw his grade. When the bell rang, he caught Dean in the hallway and offered to help him. Dean, of course, vehemently rejected Castiel’s offer, called him a nerd and told him to leave him the hell alone, or else he’d bash his face in. Now, usually when Dean threw a fit like that, other kids ran in the opposite direction. But as Dean would soon come to know, Cas was not like other kids.

Castiel had grabbed Dean by the shoulder and shoved him up against the lockers, making a sound so loud, the students around them hushed and stared.

“Where do you get off threatening me?” Cas had asked, fury afire in his blue eyes. “Maybe you were the tough guy back…wherever you came from, but that’s not gonna fly around here. I don’t know what your damage is, Dean Winchester, but for a new kid, you’ve sure got a lot of issues. Every day you’re either flipping everyone off or throwing temper tantrums, and if everyone else is okay with that, fine. But you will _not_ come into _my_ school and tell threaten _me._ Especially when all I did was offer you my help.”

With a huff, Castiel had pushed off of Dean’s chest and taken a step back. Before he walked away, though, he faced Dean and said one last thing.

“You should show me some respect.”

And that was that. He had walked away, the crowd had dispersed, and Dean was left, fists clenched, against the lockers, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

The next week, Dean grew some balls and apologized for being an asshole. Castiel asked him if he still wanted help, Dean said yes, and they’d been best friends ever since.

And then, Dean’s father died – liver cancer.

Dean wasn’t surprised about the diagnosis, but the disease spread so quickly, his death came as a shock. Dean was 16 at the time, and had just completed his sophomore year. Sam was only 12. Dean didn’t cry until the funeral. Only he, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, and Bobby’s friend Rufus had been there. They said a few words while Sam stifled sobs the entire time, wiping his nose with the too-long sleeve of his suit. When they finally lowered John Winchester into the ground, Castiel had reached over and squeezed Dean’s hand. It was a simple, friendly, comforting gesture, Dean knew that. But that was all it took.

Dean lost it.

With a cry, he had fallen to the ground, pulling Cas down with him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d laid there, tears streaming down his face, but when he finally got a hold of himself, Castiel was holding him against his chest, and their suits were covered in grass stains. Bobby and Rufus had walked over to the truck they had arrived in, and Sam was standing beside Bobby with tissues in his hands.

The next two years were a bit of a blur. Castiel graduated a year before Dean, and moved to Baldwin City to attend college. Cas’s entire family moved to Montana after Cas moved out. That’s when Dean decided to move back to Kansas. And he wanted to take Sam with him.

As expected, Bobby was not okay with this, but Dean had somehow gotten accepted to Baker University, and with Castiel’s help, he found an off-campus apartment that he could afford with the money he made working at Bobby’s auto shop. He had saved up a lot more than he thought. Also, on his 18th birthday, Bobby let him access the account that his mother had started for him, so he could pay tuition and support himself and Sam. Finally, after months of convincing Uncle Bobby that he could do it, his uncle agreed to let him go.

After Dean graduated high school, and Sam finished middle school at the top of his class, they packed up and drove back to Kansas in John’s old ’67 Impala, which Dean claimed as his own. When they arrived, Castiel helped them get settled in, meet some people, find jobs. They lived walking distance from Sam’s new high school, while Dean drove to campus and spent time at Castiel’s apartment. Much to Dean’s surprise, everything turned out alright. Sam easily made friends at his school and did extremely well; Dean took enough classes to be eligible for loans and grants, and took up a job at a local car dealership. They spent their summers back in South Dakota, while Castiel went to Montana to see his family. For three years, everything went smoothly, and Dean was happy. So happy, in fact, that he had stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And then Sam got hit by a truck.

In Dean’s Impala.

It was Sam’s Junior Prom. He wanted to take a girl – Ruby, her name was. Dean thought he would be a cool big brother and let him drive instead of dropping him off.

“I’m not gonna screw her, Dean,” Sam had said when Dean handed him the keys with a wink. “We probably won’t even stay the whole time. Ruby really isn’t into the whole _dance_ scene, anyway.”

True to his word, Sam had dropped Ruby back at her house a full two hours before the dance ended. He texted Dean and said he was on his way. Dean was at Castiel’s for the night, in case Sam changed his mind and decided to bring Ruby back with him. He told Sam he’d have the place to himself, put his phone on silent, and passed out on Cas’s couch.

When he got back to his apartment the next afternoon, and Sam wasn’t home, he figured his brother was out with friends, but when he didn’t see a note, he checked his phone.

And his worst nightmare had begun. 


	4. Second Stage of Grief

It took Castiel two days to convince Dean to stay with him at his place. Two days, a lot of yelling, and not enough alcohol amounted to Dean situating himself on Castiel’s sofa on Sunday morning, refusing to say more than ten words to the other man.

“You’re being a child,” Castiel called from the linen closet. “I know you’re hurting, Dean, and… well, you’re allowed to be a bit _off_ – actually you’re allowed to be _way_ off – but...” Castiel walked back into the living room with a towel and some blankets hanging over his arms and found Dean, lying face-up on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He sighed.

“But you’re here, and I’m here, and if you want me to help you, then –.”

“How could you _possibly_ help me, Cas?” Dean snapped, startling Castiel a little. “Can you bring Sam back?”

 _What?_ “Dean –.”

“Can you bring him back, Cas?” Dean was looking at him now, staring him down as if this was somehow Castiel’s fault. Which it wasn’t. _Is he joking?_

Castiel stood up straighter. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Dean.”

“Well then don’t make stupid offers! You can’t help, okay? You can’t just _fix_ this!” Dean sat up and rubbed his temples. “Just leave me alone.”

Castiel threw the linens down with a huff. “I’m sorry Sam’s dead, okay?” He hissed, barely restraining his annoyance. Dean had every right to be upset, but Cas was not about to be the on the receiving end of Dean’s meanness. “I miss him, too, you know. You’re not the only one dealing with this. He was my frien-.”

“He was my _brother,_ ” Dean stood, fists clenched by his sides. “I practically _raised_ him, I taught him almost everything he knows…knew…” Dean corrected himself, ducking his head for only a second before his green eyes were alight and furious once more. Castiel took a step back as Dean stepped forward. “You were his friend? You hardly knew a thing about him! Don’t you dare try and tell me that you’re hurting the way I’m hurting. _No one_ knows the pain I’m feeling right now. I’ve lost everyone, Cas! Everyone!”

There was a crash as the knickknacks and picture frames on the mantle of Castiel’s fake fireplace were shoved off to the floor in a pile. He only winced slightly, though, because he saw this coming. Part of being Dean Winchester’s best friend meant dealing with his occasional outbursts of rage. Dean had anger issues, but because he grew up the way he did – dead mother, drunken father – Castiel couldn’t blame him.

He’d reacted the same way after John died. At the funeral, Dean hadn’t gone home with his uncle. Castiel had driven his own car to the graveyard and told Mr. Singer that he wouldn’t mind taking Dean back home when he finally was ready to leave. Sam had protested a bit, but Bobby explained that Dean needed a little more time, and they were on their way. By the time Cas got back to Dean, he was kicking in a tree. The flowers that had been placed on John’s new gravestone were torn to shreds, lying in the grass. Frowning, Cas had called to Dean, but Dean wasn’t listening and began to punch the tree trunk with his bare knuckles. That’s when Castiel intervened.

When they arrived at Bobby’s, Castiel explained why the back of Dean’s hands were so bloody. Mr. Singer had only sighed and thanked Castiel, sending him home with a hug rather than the usual pat on the back. Cas never knew Bobby Singer to be very affectionate, but in light of the situation, Castiel had welcomed the exception.

The next day, Castiel had driven over to Mr. Singer’s again, to check on Dean. He met Sam at the porch, sitting on the steps.

“He’s not talking,” Sam had reported, voice scratching. Before Castiel could reply, Sam pointed over to the scrap yard of car parts and muttered, “but if you wanna see him, he’s beating in Dad’s car.”

“He’s what?!” Cas hadn’t waited for an answer before he jogged over to the scrap yard, the sound of clanging metal getting louder as he got closer. The scene that appeared in front of him made him gasp.

Dean was swinging a crowbar at the Impala’s trunk, over and over, pained sobs escaping with every swing. And with every hit, Cas flinched – he had never seen Dean so…so _wrecked._ He watched for about a minute before he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d driven home quickly after that, locked himself in his room for a few hours to cry.

He never told Dean about that. He figured that Sam hadn’t told him either.  

“I need some air,” Dean grunted, still heaving from his outburst, and Cas was pulled out of his thoughts.

“Where are you gonna go? Dean? Dean, we’re on campus, you can only -.”

“I’m just getting some air, dammit!” Dean yelled from the doorway before slamming Castiel’s front door shut, and Cas was left alone to clean up the mess. He covered his face with his hands and sighed. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for Dean’s anger to shift into bargaining, but what he truly dreaded was what came after that: the all encompassing depression. After John’s death, Dean started talking again after about four days, smiling and even laughing when they spent time together. Cas thought they were out of the woods then, but he had misread Dean’s positivity as acceptance, when really Dean had been making deals with God, promising to get his shit together if God would find a way to turn back the clock, or just bring his father back. This happened for about two weeks, to no avail. Dean came to the conclusion that praying was hopeless, and fell head first into a pit of depression so deep that he almost brought Cas down with him; Castiel hadn’t been prepared for such a swift shift in mood and tried to help, but ended up letting Dean make him feel depressed himself.

Castiel vowed that he would not make the same mistake this time around.


	5. Winchester's Don't Cry

Dean was hiding in a bathroom when he decided to do it.

He was going to run.

He was going to take his Impala and drive until he couldn’t drive anymore. He had enough money saved up. All the money he had put aside for his brother was now his, and he’d saved up quite a bit for Sam. He could do it. He didn’t want to spend another minute in Baldwin City if he didn’t have to. Too many people knew him, and too many of them heard what had happened. He wasn’t ten feet out of Cas’s apartment complex before someone stopped him to tell him how sorry they were about what happened to Sam. He resisted the urge to punch the first few people who expressed their condolences, but by the sixth time, Dean snapped.

He hadn’t meant to yell at the poor girl. The rational part of his brain told him that she was only trying to be considerate, but his brother was dead, so rational could take its crap and shove it. He was walking though the student common building when she stopped him, and the second he heard the words “I’m so sorry,” Dean lost it. He started shouting angrily at her, asking her what she could possibly be sorry for and how being sorry wouldn’t change a damn thing. His shouts drew a crowd, and then someone called a security guard over. Dean caught sight of the guard and booked. He jogged until he found a single bathroom. The door was unlocked, but he knocked anyway. When there was no answer, he scrabbled inside, locked the door, and collapsed onto the tile floor.

He refused to cry. Dean Winchester did _not_ cry. He wouldn’t cry over Sam; it wouldn’t do him any good. But he knew he needed to do _something._ So there, on the floor of the bathroom, he decided he would run.

As much as he hated the thought, he knew his first stop would have to be home, in Sioux Falls. He owed his Uncle Bobby that much. And he owed Sam a proper funeral.

 _Fuck,_ Dean remembered, _Sam needs a funeral._ Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone so he could text his uncle. There were a couple texts from Cas waiting on his screen.

From Cas M.: Don’t do anything stupid, okay?

From Cas M.: I mean it, Dean.  

Dean groaned, ignoring the texts and finding Bobby in his contacts. He knew he should call, but he wasn’t up for a conversation about his dead brother just yet. He opened a new thread and started typing.

To Bobby S.: Hey uncle bobby, I just remembered that Sammy’s gonna need a proper funeral and all that. Was wondering if u had anything in mind yet?

Dean set his phone down and waited a while, staring at the wall in front of him. He was deciding whether or not he would tell anyone about his plans to run when the phone buzzed. Dean picked it up and unlocked it to read the message.

From Bobby S.: All’s been taken care of, no need to worry. Hospital called Monday, morgue called Tuesday, they’re keeping him till the day before the funeral. Saturday the 14th, after schools out. Sound good? Impala should b ready by the 12th.

The Impala was in the shop being repaired. Bobby had left Dean a voicemail on Wednesday to let him know where he could find the car. Apparently, one of the cops at the scene of Sam’s accident was Jodie Mills, and old friend of Bobby’s. She had recognized the Impala and told the towing company to take it to a shop instead of the junkyard. She even paid them off for agreeing to change their route. Dean knew he had to thank her, and he would. Eventually.

To Bobby S.: Haven’t gone to see Baby yet, but I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll b home Friday night. Thnx uncle bobby.

His uncle replied quickly.

From Bobby S.: Of course, son. C U then. U should call.

Dean bit his lip before sliding his phone back into his pocket. He wanted to call, he did, but if he talked to Bobby over the phone, he would _definitely_ cry. And Winchester’s don’t cry.

He glanced at his watch and realized it had already been over an hour since he stormed out of Castiel’s place. He remembered how he left, what he’d done to Cas’s things, and he felt overwhelming guilt.

“You’re such an idiot,” Dean muttered aloud, the sound of his voice bouncing off the tile floor and echoing in his ears. “The guy offers you a place to stay and you trash it. Real nice.”

Shaking his head, Dean pushed himself off of the floor and took a few steps until he was in front of the sink. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face a few times before looking up at his reflection in the mirror. He looked pale. He hadn’t eaten in seven hours. He hadn’t slept through the night in a week. Dean had nightmares about Sam, about how he died, about being in his body, or in the car with him. Dean saw Sam every time he tried to sleep, and always woke up screaming.  

After drying off his face with a paper towel, Dean stepped out of the bathroom and began making his way back to Cas’s apartment building. He walked quickly to avoid anyone who wanted to stop him. He wasn’t sure he could handle listening to another half-assed apology. Thankfully, he reached Cas’s door without any incidents. He knocked lightly, having forgotten to take the spare key in his bag with him before he left. _Idiot._

Before Dean could knock again, Cas swung open the door, looking displeased. Dean opened his mouth to – _to what? Apologize? Shout some more?_ – to say something, but Cas held a hand up. His left hand was wrapped in a white dish towel covered in red splotches.

“Glad you’re in one piece,” Cas said plainly. “I hope we can keep it that way.”

“What happened to your hand?” Dean asked, reaching for Cas, but the other man turned and stalked into the apartment. Dean followed and shut the door behind him. “Castiel?”

“Glass,” Cas answered from the small kitchen on the right. “You broke some of my picture frames. I got glass in my hand cleaning up your mess.”

Dean was silent for a beat as Castiel’s words hit him, hard. They weren’t delivered maliciously, but Dean could tell by the words he chose that Cas was definitely pissed off. _As he should be_ , Dean thought, rubbing a hand down his face. The guilt that washed over him earlier began pulling at him once more. He walked into the kitchen.

“Cas, I-.”

“Don’t you even _think_ about apologizing, or so help me, I will throw you out!”

Dean’s mouth snapped shut. He wasn’t used to see Castiel so… _unhinged._ Cas was the one who always had it together, no matter what was happening. That didn’t seem to be the case this time. Unsure of what to say, Dean went with his safest option and said nothing. After a few moments, Cas spoke up.

“I know you’re sorry,” Cas whispered, cradling his left hand with his right. “But even if you weren’t, that wouldn’t change anything. I can’t kick you out. What kind of best friend would that make me?” He looked up at Dean, but Dean’s eyes fell. He felt something twist in his gut and realized it was shame.

“I’m running away,” Dean heard himself say, tone _way_ too casual. He glanced up and caught Cas squinting at him.

“I’m sorry…what?” 


	6. Destination: Anywhere But Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean asks Cas to...uh... _run away with him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for being so patient! It's a little short, but I hope you enjoy the chapter, lovelies! <3

“I’m running,” Dean repeated while Cas stood wide eyed, staring at him. “And I know you think running is cowardly, but dammit, I can’t stay here! Every second I spend in this damn town does nothing but remind me of Sam, and I can’t –.” Dean inhaled deeply, covering his face with his hands.

Cas fought the urge to reach out and pull Dean into his arms. _You’re angry at him,_ he reminded himself, but when Dean looked back up at him with wet eyes, almost all of Cas’s anger faded away. _Almost._

“I can’t just _sit_ here, Cas. I’ll do something crazy,”

“And running away isn’t crazy?” Cas asked, trying to mask his concern. “Do you even know where you’re gonna go?”

“Well, home, first. Bobby planned Sam’s funeral.”

Castiel’s heart sunk. Another funeral for yet another Winchester, and Dean was the only one left. Cas was about to ask when the funeral was, but Dean spoke up again.

“I don’t know where I’ll go from there – everywhere and nowhere, I guess. But I’m taking Baby and I’m just gonna drive. All summer.”

“All summer?!” Cas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Dean, I cancelled plans with my family so I could stay with you for a couple of weeks, and you just up and decide it would be a good idea to leave for _hell knows where,_ and stay gone _all summer?”_

Dean blinked, looking at Cas like he had no idea what his best friend was talking about, but after a few seconds of silence, his shoulders slumped.

“You told your mom.”

“Yeah, I did. And she’s devastated for you, Dean. Asked me to send you her condolences, but I know you hate that, so I didn’t mention it. But yes, she knows, and she didn’t even get upset about me staying here in Kansas till the end of the month. But now,” Castiel threw his hands in the air and then let them droop by his sides before making his way out of the kitchen and towards the living room. “I’ve been replaced by a car,” he mumbled.

“Replaced by a-? Cas, no, come on!” Dean jogged after him. Castiel had situated himself on the sofa, legs crossed, elbows digging into the sides of his knees. He ran his hands repeatedly through his hair.

“You can’t just let someone assume you want them to stay, and then plan to leave,” Cas said quietly, unsure of the emotions he was currently experiencing. _Disappointment? Jealousy? Longing? What?_

“I _do_ want you to stay, Cas –.”

“Why should I stay if you’re going off on your own?” Cas asked, voice louder than he intended. He looked up when he felt the sofa cushion dip beside him. Dean’s eyes were bright, and if he looked hard enough, Cas could almost see a smile starting to form on Dean’s lips.

“Dean? Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked cautiously.

“Come with me.”

It was Cas’s turn to look confused. “What?”

“Come with me,” Dean said again, placing his hands on Cas’s knee.

Cas glanced at Dean’s hands for half a second before his eyes snapped back up to meet Dean’s.

“To the funeral?”

“And wherever I go after that, yeah.”

“Are you…asking me to _run away with you_?”

Dean made a face. “That’s really cheesy, man. I’m just asking you to come with me, okay? I mean, seriously, do you think I’m in any state to be travelling alone right now?”

Cas opened his mouth to respond, but immediately shut it again. Dean had a point, a _good_ point. He was in no shape to be driving for too long, and he was definitely not stable enough to be left alone for three months.

Castiel sighed. “When’s the funeral?”

“Saturday.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Saturday? As in, this Saturday, the 14th?”

“Yeah?”

“Dean, I’m graduating.”

“I know, but that’s –.”

“This Saturday. The 14th.”

“What? No, no, I thought it was… shit.” Dean lifted himself off of the sofa, and began to pace. Which was never a good sign.

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No,” Dean said firmly, his eyes on the floor. “I can’t believe I forgot your graduation date. I can’t believe I asked you to come with me on this stupid road trip to nowhere, god! I’m such an idiot, of course you can’t come; you have things to do! Real, important things to do and here I am screwing it up like I always do.”

Cas stood up. “Dean, stop it -.”

“Didn’t you skip your Junior Prom to go with me to my dad’s funeral?”

Dean had stopped pacing; his previously downcast eyes now locked onto Cas’s blue one’s.

“Didn’t you?” he repeated.

“Yes?” Cas answered warily, taking a step forward. “But I didn’t even want to go, remember? I didn’t have a date because I didn’t like any of the girls who asked me. I didn’t like anyone, actually. Not as anything more than a friend.” Dean was still staring him down, and Cas exhaled slowly. “It didn’t matter as much as you did, Dean. I’m glad I didn’t go.”

“But this isn’t some dance, this is your _grad-u-a-tion,_ ” Dean emphasized, “I can’t ask you to skip your graduation!”

Castiel shrugged. “You can always ask, Dean. We’re best friends.” Was he really considering this? Skipping his own graduation to go to another funeral?

Dean bit his lip and turned around to pace a few times, shaking his head before stopping in front of Cas once more.

“Cas, buddy,” he began, his voice cracking, and his emotional wall along with it. “I need you.” 


	7. Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Finals week flew by. Dean woke up every day, took an exam or two, walked back to Cas’s apartment, ate, and then slept. He tried to do well on the tests, truly, he did, but he had no idea if he would pass or fail his classes this semester.

By Thursday, the fridge was running low on its contents, Dean was running low on patience, and time was running out for Cas to decide whether or not he would go with Dean to Sam’s funeral.

“He won’t skip his graduation,” Dean kept his voice low in the empty kitchen. “Prom was one thing. I wish Sammy had skipped his Junior Pr-.” Dean bit his lip. He had been trying not to think about Sam so much, which was not an easy task. That was why he slept all day long. The nightmares didn’t plague him if the sun was still up. If he fell asleep by 5:30, he wouldn’t wake up for twelve whole hours. His mind and body were exhausted from the sadness that Dean dragged around like suitcase missing its wheels.

Dean glanced at his watch. 5:19 AM. Castiel was still asleep; he had an exam at 10:30, according to the schedule taped to the fridge.

Dean smirked. “Why don’t you have magnets, Cas?”

“I don’t have much need for them.”

“Dude!” Dean yelped and spun around, startled by Cas’s gruff voice in the darkness. The only light in the kitchen came from outside the small window above the sink. “I swear you show up – like, poof! - out of nowhere, every time!”

“My apologies,” Cas yawned, “what are you doing awake so early?”

“Me? What about you? You’ve got an exam in…” Dean pointed to the paper schedule, “five hours.”

“You’ve been up at this time every morning since Monday,” Cas stated lazily.  Before Dean could ask how he knew this, Cas continued, “I’m a light sleeper.”

Dean shrugged. Cas sighed.

“What’s wrong, Dean?”

“Nothing, I was just –.”

“It is too early for bullshit, Dean,” Cas whined. _Whined?_ Dean blinked a few times before sitting down at the circular table in the center of the kitchen.

“I have nightmares,” he began, “every night. Unless I go to bed before the sun sets.” Castiel raised an eyebrow and Dean huffed a small laugh. “I know, man, it’s weird but it’s true. Anyway, I go to bed early, I’m sure you’ve noticed –.”

“I have,” Cas responded, taking a seat in the chair closest to Dean. His eyes were tired, and his body slumped as he propped his elbow up on the table and rested his head in his hand. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Well that’s just it. I sleep for like twelve hours, now that I can actually sleep though the night. I’m full of energy at this time, so I get up.” Dean shrugged again. “But if it bothers you I can -.”

Castiel interrupted with a yawn. “Don’t worry about it, Dean. Just…keep it down? Opening the fridge eleven times will not make more food magically appear.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that,” Dean played with the ring on his right hand. His mothers, he remembered, but quickly pushed the thought aside. “I can do some shopping later?”

“If you want to,” Cas lifted his body away from the table and placed his hands on his neck, “don’t get too much stuff, though. Since you’re uh, leaving soon.”

“Right.” Dean still felt horrible about ditching Cas, but he had asked him to come with, didn’t he? Which was probably worse – _who asks their best friend to skip his own graduation to go to another funeral?_

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas called from the hallway. Dean hadn’t noticed him leave the kitchen.

“Night, man,” he responded, unsure if he was heard.

~

Castiel sat in the lecture hall, his _final_ final exam sitting on the desk in front of him, and for the life of him, he couldn’t focus. He looked up at the clock for the fifth time to find that another ten minutes had already passed. It was a two hour exam, and Cas had wasted half an hour arguing with himself over whether or not he should go with Dean. The worst part was, he was choosing between two perfectly acceptable courses of action – go to his own graduation, or go to his best friend’s brother’s funeral. _It’s like I’ve got two angels on my shoulders,_ Cas shook his head, _freakin’ great._

“Shh!” his friend Uriel whispered from beside him, “you’re thinking so loud, I can’t hear _myself._ ”

Castiel scoffed, “Well sorry, I didn’t realize you were a mind reader.”

Uriel simply glared at Cas before getting back to his exam. Cas figured that he should do the same. With a sigh, he flipped open his exam booklet. _I’m definitely not getting an A on this._

~

The supermarket outside of campus was close enough to get to by foot, so Dean didn’t mind walking. It was almost noon, and the sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky. It was too hot for jeans, but Dean hadn’t done his laundry in a while, so he didn’t have much of a choice when it came to clothing. The white t-shirt he wore was the only clean top he could find. It clung to him uncomfortably.

When he stepped through the automatic doors on the store, Dean breathed in cool air. He paused, trying to remember what he needed. _Some cereal would be nice,_ Dean thought, _which means we’ll need some milk, too._ Dean headed for the isle that stocked breakfast foods. As he turned a corner, though, he walked straight into a friend of his.

“Whoa, crap!” Lisa exclaimed, the collision having caused her to drop the pile of snack boxes she’d been carrying.

“Shit! Sorry Lisa,” Dean apologized and bent down to pick up what had fallen, “I should have been paying attention.”

“It’s alright, Dean,” she replied, laughing. She reached down to take the snacks from his hands, “no big deal. You just startled me, is all. I should really use a basket.”

Dean chuckled, “You really should.” When everything was picked up, the petit brunette smiled up at Dean, but after a short moment, her smile faded.

“Uh, Lisa?” Dean asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just – I heard that, well, your, um… Are you okay?” she asked, too carefully. Dean knew she was trying to be sensitive, and probably resisting the urge to drop the boxes again just to give him a hug.

“No,” Dean answered honestly, “but I will be.” He smiled weakly, and Lisa used her free hand to give his arm a comforting squeeze.

“If you need anything, you know my number,” she said, and Dean nodded. “Anytime, okay?”

“’Course. Thanks, Lisa.” He really did appreciate her kindness. She was one of the first people he met after moving to Baldwin City, and they even dated for a few months during Dean’s freshman year. The breakup was mutual, and they remained friends. Dean was thankful for that; Lisa was a pretty awesome girl.

“Well, I’ve got some studying to do for my final tonight. See you soon, I hope?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh, soon. Good luck on your exam!”

Lisa made a discouraged sound, “I’m actually pretty certain I’ll need that. Gotta love chemistry. Bye, Dean!”

“Bye,” Dean echoed, watching Lisa walk toward the cash registers. He sighed, a bit upset about lying to her; after tomorrow, no one would be seeing him for almost three months.

“It’s for the best,” Dean reassured himself, picking out a box of cereal and making his way toward the dairy section of the store. “You need some time away or you’ll go crazy, you know that.”

Dean hadn’t realized until that moment just how much he _didn’t_ want to go alone. Three months on the road with no one to keep you company probably wasn’t much fun, but it would take a miracle for Castiel to agree to go with him. Dean knew that. But, he was desperate, and so, as he stood in front of the refrigerated shelves of milk, Dean closed his eyes, and prayed for a miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your patience, guys. Hope you liked this chapter! <3


	8. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has a big decision to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLESS ALL OF YOU. Sorry for the wait, college makes things a struggle. I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's emotional.

Castiel couldn’t sleep. He turned his head to look at the digital clock on his bedside table. It read 3:51AM. With a sigh, Castiel sat up in his bed. He brushed a hand through his hair a few times and folded his legs so that he was sitting Indian style.

Dean was leaving today.

Graduation was tomorrow.

Cas sighed again, maneuvering his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. He stretched, and then reached for the lamp next to his bed and clicked it on. He didn’t want to think about Dean leaving. He didn’t want to think about the Impala, all fixed up and shiny, sitting in the apartment parking lot. He didn’t want to think about the graduation robe that hung behind his bedroom door. He didn’t want to think about the half packed suitcase in his closet. He wished that time would just stop, for a few days maybe, so he could be rational about all of this. But, of course, time stopped for no one.

Pulling open the door as quietly as possible, Castiel stepped out of his room and towards the living area, where he found Dean curled up on the couch, Castiel’s blanket discarded on the floor. Dean was a moderately heavy sleeper, but he could always sense when people were around, so Cas wasn’t too surprised when Dean started moving around after a couple minutes.

“Watching me sleep again, Cas? You know that’s creepy, right?” Dean said, voice gruff and thick with sleep.

“Sorry,” Cas chuckled, “Couldn’t sleep.”

Dean sat up slowly and patted the sofa cushion next to him, “That makes two of us.”

Castiel walked over and sat down, pulling his legs underneath him. Dean reached down and picked up the blanket, throwing it over both of them and leaning back with an unnecessarily loud exhale.

“I’m leaving around 11,” Dean said softly, playing with the ring on his right hand. A nervous tick of his, Cas knew it well. “It’s a six hour drive home, and I’d rather not miss dinner.” Dean smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Have you, uh…decided what you wanna do yet?”

“No,” Castiel replied, looking away from Dean. “Not yet.”

“Oh,” came Dean’s response, the disappointment in his tone all too clear. Who knew one syllable could make one feel like the worst person on the face of the planet?

“Not yet,” Cas repeated, and leaned over until his head rested on Dean’s shoulder. After a few seconds, Dean turned his head and pressed a short kiss to Cas’s hair. The kiss was an oddly intimate gesture, and it surprised Castiel, but he didn’t move or mention it. A kiss like that had only happened once before – when Castiel was leaving for college, almost four years ago.

_“So this is it,” Dean spoke first. They were standing in front of Castiel’s new car – a graduation present. It was filled with college things and ready to go, but Cas had to make one last stop before he left. He had to see Dean._

_“This is it,” Cas replied, hands stuffed in his pockets, “off to college, finally.”_

_Dean laughed, “I know, right? It’s crazy.” He looked up at Cas then, green eyes gleaming. “I’m gonna miss you, man.”_

_“I’ll come back and visit,” Cas added, not at all eager to go, not yet, “for Thanksgiving break and such, you know. My family is moving to Montana, and that’s way too far to drive. They like Bobby, I’m sure they won’t mind me staying here with you guys instead.”_

_“Cas, you can’t ditch your family. Family’s important -.”_

_“You’re important,” Cas blurted, a lot less gracefully than he had intended. “You’re my family too, Dean. You’re my best friend.”_

_Dean had mentioned before that he wouldn’t cry, but Cas caught one tear slipping down his cheek. Instead of teasing him, though, he pulled Dean into a hug. They stood together for a long time, but before they pulled apart, Cas pressed a kiss to Dean’s hair and whispered, “I’ll miss you, too.”_

Castiel wondered why they never spoke about that moment, and then realized that they probably wouldn’t talk about this one either – Cas’s head on Dean’s shoulder, Dean’s lips resting near Cas’s temple, their hands – wait, _when did we start holding hands?_

Castiel turned his head to look at Dean, only to find him fast asleep. How long had they been sitting there? Had Cas fallen asleep as well? He looked at their hands again, how his pale skin contrasted with Dean’s tan, freckled complexion, and tightened his grip. They wouldn’t talk about this, that much Cas knew, so he decided that he might as well enjoy the comfort while it lasted. 

Because Dean was leaving today.

And graduation was tomorrow.

And Cas had a decision to make.

~

The clanging in the kitchen was what finally woke Dean. It sounded like someone was banging dishes together in an attempt to wash them, but before he could go see what the hell was going on, his phone beeped on the coffee table. Sitting up, Dean reached for the phone and heard his spine pop uncomfortably.

“Crap,” he grunted, lying back against the sofa once he picked up his phone. The time read 9:08. He could also see a couple messages from Bobby, and unlocked his phone to read them.

From Bobby S.: I would call, but I don’t know if you’re up for talking just yet. Let me know when you think you’ll be home, alright?

From Bobby S.: Oh, and they got Sam here early this morning. Everything’s set up for tomorrow. Some of Sam’s old friends are coming, just a heads up. C U soon.

“Crap,” Dean said again. He dropped his phone in his lap and covered his face with his hands. He took deep breaths, inhaling slow, exhaling slower, and tried to stay calm. Of course Sam’s old friends would want to come, everyone loved Sam; Sam was the golden boy – friends with everyone, loved by everyone, respected by everyone. Dean was never like that. People liked him, sure, but he wasn’t exactly very good at keeping friends. He still wasn’t sure why Castiel gave him the time of day in high school, but Dean sure was glad that he did.

There was another loud noise from the kitchen and Dean got up to investigate. When he stepped into the kitchen, he found the small table set with two bowl’s of Dean’s favorite cereal – Frosted Flakes. Castiel was at the sink, washing what looked like a perfectly clean set of spoons. There were dishes on the drying rack, and Dean assumed they were responsible for the ruckus from earlier. One plate was even chipped.

 “Cas?”

“Fuck!” Castiel jumped, dropping the spoons into the sink.

Dean winced; Castiel didn’t curse very often. “Sorry, dude, didn’t mean to scare you. Everything alright?”

Cas picked the spoons out of the sink, rinsed them, and turned off the faucet. “If we ignore the cardiac arrest I just experienced, yes, I’m fine.”

Dean chuckled. “You were spaced out for a while there.”

Cas shrugged, and then motioned toward the table. “Made your favorite.”

“That you did,” Dean smiled. He pulled out a chair and sat down, “what’s the occasion?”

“Well, today’s your last day here, so…and you bought all of this cereal…” Cas shrugged again before sitting down. “Thought you’d like it.”

“I do, Cas,” Dean assured him, “thank you. You’re the best.”

“Amen,” Cas replied with a smirk, and Dean laughed.

“Don’t get smart with me, now,” he warned playfully.

“Eat your damn cereal,” Cas sassed back, handing him a spoon, “and don’t spill the milk. I _just_ cleaned the floors.”

“Okay _mom,_ ” Dean teased, taking a bite of his cereal dry before pouring the milk in it. _This is nice,_ he thought. He would miss eating breakfast with Cas, their banter, Cas’s company. Most of all, Dean would miss Castiel’s laugh. His laugh always had a way of lifting Dean’s spirits, no matter how down he felt.

“What?” Cas asked suddenly, his mouth filled with Frosted Flakes.

“What?”

“You’re staring,” Cas answered.

 “I’m just gonna miss you, is all,” Dean muttered, taking another bite of cereal. Dean hadn’t realized he’d been staring. Why had he been staring?

“Dean, I haven’t yet decided if -.”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted, “I’m leaving in like, two hours. You’re not coming.”

“Dean -.”

“No, its fine, really, I understand. You don’t have to pretend you’re still thinking about it.”

“But I am!” Cas exclaimed, and Dean shook his head. He wanted Cas to go, but there was no way Cas would decide to go last minute. That just wasn’t Cas. He planned things out. All of the stalling was probably just a way to keep from hurting Dean’s feelings.

Dean put his spoon down and pushed himself up from the table.

“Where are you going?” Cas asked.

“To take a shower. Thanks for breakfast.” Dean walked out of the kitchen without looking back. He grabbed some clothes from his bag on the floor and headed for the bathroom. He heard Cas calling his name before he closed the door. There was a soft knock a few seconds later. Dean had anticipated as much.

“Dean,” Cas called, “Dean, I’m sorry, I just…I want to go with you, okay? But I don’t know if I can miss my own graduation! Please, Dean, I’m still deciding. Dean?”

When Dean didn’t answer, he heard Castiel sigh and move away from the door. When he was certain that Cas was gone, Dean huffed and sat down on the edge of the tub with his head between his knees.

“Dammit, Cas,” he mumbled, pressing his fingers into his neck. Dean sat up after a few minutes and took a deep breath. His eyes were wet, but he didn’t bother to wipe at them. Why was this so hard? Cas was his best friend, he was supposed to choose him, every time. He needed Cas to choose him.

“I can’t do this without you.” 


	9. Buck Up, Milton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait, loves! Please enjoy the chapter! Feels shall ensue. <3

It was almost 10 o’clock when Castiel heard Dean open the bathroom door. He heard Dean’s footsteps coming down the hall, and they paused in front of his bedroom door. Cas tensed, but it was only for a second; the footsteps continued on to the rest of the apartment. Cas released a breath and covered his face with his hands.

“Dammit,” he groaned, leaning back against the headboard of his bed. His suitcase was still half full, but now it sat in the center of his mattress, clothes flung haphazardly around it.

Castiel was at an impasse, to say the least. Graduation was a big deal. His mother was expecting pictures, and his brothers were planning a party of sorts. He had already begged his family _not_ to come to the ceremony; his brothers tended to be restless and, frankly, embarrassing. At his high school graduation, Castiel’s little sister Hael had begun to cry just as they called his name. Michael and Raphael had started an argument over whose fault it was, and a large fraction of the crowd became clearly annoyed. Castiel had run off the stage as quickly as possible, but when he looked up again, he saw Dean, with Sam, sitting a row in front of his family, waving and clapping. They didn’t even seem to mind the noise his family was creating, and it was at that moment that Castiel considered the Winchesters to be his family, too.

_Family._

Sam Winchester was family, and when family dies, you see them off. No exceptions.

Castiel groaned again, sitting back up and stuffing more clothes into his suitcase. He swung his legs over the bedside and hesitated before grabbing his phone charger and throwing in the suitcase as well. He undocked his tablet and slid it into the side pocket, and then went to his drawer to pull out a pair of headphones. He moved to his closet and bent down to grab a pair of running shoes, and then put them back, choosing a pair of tennis shoes instead. When he turned to place them into his suitcase, however, he almost ran straight into Dean.

“Shit!” Cas yelled, and he must have jumped a foot in the air, “Dean, what the –- how long have you been in here!?”

“I’m… you…” Dean looked around and motioned toward the bed, completely ignoring Castiel’s query, “You’re packing?”

Cas huffed and ran his palm over his mouth. “Yeah,” he replied. Because what else was he supposed to say? _I don’t know what I’m doing? A road trip is a terrible idea right now? I’m worried you’re going to go mad in a car by yourself? Graduation is a big deal to me, but so is Sam’s funeral? I wish I could be in two places at once?_ He didn’t say any of those, but he didn’t have to either. Dean knew. Dean had to know.

“You’re…still deciding,” he said quietly, but the disappointed rang loudly in Castiel’s ears.

“I have like, half an hour, right?” Cas shrugged and tried to smile, to lighten the mood, _something._

Looking away, Dean bit his lip and nodded slowly, but then he looked back up at Cas and shook his head.

“No,” he said simply.

“No?” Cas asked, confused.

“No.”

“No… what? Dean, I’m -.”

“I’m not going to do this, Cas,” Dean explained, “You have me on a tightrope, man! You can’t keep me in limbo like this!”

“Dean,” Cas took a step forward and reached for his best friend, but Dean only stepped back.

“No, Cas, I can’t… I’ve got to go. I’m going.”

“What? Wait, right now?”

“Yeah, right now,” Dean replied, and just like that, there was a shift in the air, and Cas had to grab hold of the closet door to keep himself upright. _This can’t be happening_. _I need more time._  

“Dean, please,” Cas begged, “just give me -.”

“Give you what, Cas? A minute, an hour? Hell, a month? I don’t have that kind of time, Cas! In case you’ve forgotten, my brother is dead.”

“Like hell, I’ve forgotten,” Cas bit back. He felt lightheaded and hurt, and he didn’t want to yell at Dean, but Dean couldn’t leave yet. Dean didn’t walk away from arguments. _Usually._ “How could I possibly forget that your brother is dead? You think this week has been easy for me, Dean?”

“All you’ve been worried about are your little exams and your stupid graduation and -.”

“And you!” Cas actually yelled this time, and it almost hurt. “I’ve been worried about you, Dean. Your sanity, your health, your pain – you. In case _you’ve_ forgotten, I’m your best friend, and that’s my damn job.”

Dean just stared at Cas for half a minute, and then turned toward the door. Cas watched as he paused under the doorframe, gripping it until his knuckles paled. Cas opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“I don’t think I can do this alone,” Dean said finally, “but I’m doing it.”

Without looking back, Dean walked out of the room, and a minute later, the front door of the apartment slammed so loud that Castiel flinched. The daze he was in disappeared abruptly, and Cas was left with the harsh realization that Dean was leaving. Dean was leaving _now._   

Cas had never run so fast in his life.

~

Dean threw his suitcase into his trunk and slammed it shut with a lot more force than strictly necessary. He stood there for a while, staring at his car – all fixed up, new coat of paint – he was buying time. With a sigh, Dean made his way to the driver side door and pulled it open. He glanced back up at Cas’s apartment building, and then down at the watch on his wrist. It was only 10:58. He could wait two minutes, right?

Looking back up at the apartment one final time, Dean bumped his fist against the hood of his car a few times, and then managed to force himself down into the driver’s seat. He closed the door, placed his hands on the wheel, and took a deep breath. His thoughts appeared in a rush: _This is where it happened, this is where Sammy was sitting when a truck came plowing into his right side, this is where he had his last memory, last breath, last sight, last feeling, this is where he once felt safe, this is where he died, this is where Sammy died, Sam is d-._

A loud knocking on the car window pulled Dean out of his mind. He turned, startled, toward the passenger side door, only to see Castiel standing worriedly on the sidewalk, suitcase slung over his shoulder, panting like he’d just sprinted a 5K. Dean just stared for a few seconds before it registered that he should probably open the door.

Dean stretched to reach the door, unlocking it and pushing it open. Castiel slid into the passenger seat wordlessly, flinging his bag into the back seat. He adjusted the seat – it was set to Sam’s height, and Sam was taller than Cas – pulled the door shut, but said nothing. After about a minute, Dean broke the seemingly unending silence.

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying not to sound as hopeful as he felt.

Cas chuckled, “I’m insane,” he began, gesturing with his hands, “this whole thing is insane, but… but I’m going with you. To the funeral, on the road trip, all of it. I’m going.”

“But what about–?”

“You’re more important,” Cas blurted, closing his eyes tight. He breathed, “This is more important, Dean. Family is more important. What kind of best friend would I be if I made you do this alone?”

Dean was at a loss for words. He was ecstatic, of course, but he still couldn’t believe it. Things almost never went his way, but this time, he was getting what he wanted. It was too good to be true.

“Are…a-are you sure?” Dean stuttered, looking intensely at Cas, trying to find the smallest hint of doubt in the crease between his brows.

“I am, indeed, sure,” Castiel replied, placing one hand on the side of Dean’s neck. The gesture surprised Dean, but he found himself leaning into the touch. Cas’s blue eyes were locked onto his, and Dean had to remember to breathe. “I’m going with you.”

After a few seconds, Dean spoke up. “Okay,” he said curtly, nodding once and turning toward the steering wheel. Cas smiled and moved away to relax into the leather seat and Dean’s neck felt cold despite the 70-something degree weather. He brushed off the feeling and turned his key in the ignition. The Impala’s engine roared to life and Dean grinned. He’d missed Baby. She was his solace.

“Ready?” Dean asked, turning his head slightly to look at Cas.

Cas, who had been tapping the screen of his phone, looked back at Dean. “As I’ll ever be,” he sighed, but smiled.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Dean replied, pulling away from the curb.

He had his car and his best friend. He could do this. He would be okay. 


	10. Dead or Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER, FINALLY. I'm so so so sorry for the wait, I hope you guys still like it. Enjoy the angst! <3

Dean was okay for the first 5 hours of the drive back to Sioux Falls. He and Cas didn’t say much to each other along the way, but there was no need. They sat in comfortable silence while Dean messed with the radio every so often, and Castiel dozed off or busied himself by playing with his phone. They only stopped once to eat, and a couple more times to relieve themselves.

They were 20 minutes away when it happened: Bon Jovi.

The sounds of Bon Jovi’s ‘Dead or Alive’ came through the busted speakers of the Impala. At first, Cas simply bobbed his head to the rhythm, but then he felt the car jolt suddenly.

“Oomph!” Cas grunted as he slammed his hands against the dashboard. He looked over worriedly at Dean. “What was that?”

Dean didn’t look at him. “I’m s-sorry,” he stammered, speeding up again.

“Dean, what…? Slow down - what’s wrong? We’re only 20 minutes out–.”

“Sorry sorry sorry,” he repeated quickly, shaking his head, “We have to stop, I have – I’m…sorry j-just-.”

“Dean, what are -? Whoa!” Dean pulled a right that Castiel was _not_ prepared for, and he grabbed on to the door to keep from sliding across the seat. The car behind them honked, but they made it onto the rest area ramp without killing anyone. Dean drove the Impala into an empty section of the parking lot before throwing it into park, slamming the radio shut, and bolting out of the car.

For a moment, Castiel sat back in his seat, literally dazed and confused. _What the hell was that?!_ After calming down minutely, Cas took a deep breath and got out of the car as well. He looked over the hood only to see Dean kneeling on the ground with his head hung, fists banging the pavement. The sight made Cas’s stomach twist with sadness.

Cas sighed, closed the passenger side door and made his way over to Dean, looking around to make sure no one was staring. When he reached his best friend, he hesitated for a moment before kneeling down beside him and gently placing a hand on Dean’s back. The moment his hand made contact, Dean let out a choked sob, and Castiel’s heart clenched. He didn’t expect this to happen until after the funeral, but apparently the Bon Jovi song had triggered _something_. He made a mental note to mention it later.

“Dean,” he said softly, moving his body closer to the broken man beside him, “Hey, it’s okay -.”

“No, it’s not, Cas!” Dean yelled suddenly, his voice muffled by his position on the ground. “Sammy’s supposed to be alive, and you’re supposed to be graduating, and I’m...I’m – dammit!” Dean’s fist hit the ground again, and Cas winced. He hated to see Dean like this, but he wasn’t sure how to make it better; he couldn’t give Dean his brother back, and he was beginning to feel useless.

“I can’t do this,” Dean muttered between sobs, “There’s no way I’ll be able… I can’t.”

“Dean,” Cas started again, but then Dean sat up and looked at him, his face reddened, fresh tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

“Cas, I can’t,” he shook his head vigorously, “Sam would want me to man up and be there and move on but…how? How am I supposed to just…live, without my brother?”

Cas opened his mouth to respond, then closed it and nodded instead. What was there to say? _Nothing,_ he thought.

They sat there on the pavement for a few minutes longer before Dean wiped the tears off his face. “I’m sorry,” he sniffled, clearing his throat, “We’re probably gonna be late now.”

“Do you think I care about being late?” Cas asked, a bit baffled, although it was like Dean to focus on insignificant details when he was trying to avoid the elephants in the room. “Bobby might care, yes, but I don’t. I care about _you,_ Dean,” Cas stated firmly, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “I’m here _for you_.”

At first, Cas didn’t think he made himself clear enough, because Dean only stared back at him blankly, but then his face changed, and it all seemed to click.

“You’re…here for me,” Dean repeated, and Cas smiled weakly.

“You’re my best friend,” he said, moving his hand to rest at the crook of Dean’s neck. “That’s my job, isn’t it?”

Dean released a breath and pulled Cas into a tight hug, which felt a bit awkward due to their sitting positions, but Cas didn’t mind at all. He let himself be crushed by the weight of Dean’s arms around his torso, maneuvering his own arms to rest heavily around Dean’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Dean whispered, and Cas felt the words more than heard them, the slight vibration in Dean’s voice and his breath on Cas’s neck making them both shake.

“It’s okay,” Cas repeated, rubbing a thumb across the hairs at the back of Dean’s head. The moment felt intimate, almost _too_ intimate, but Cas ignored the implications. His priority was Dean. “I’m here.”

~

They arrived at Bobby’s place half an hour later, and Dean parked the Impala in front of the house. He turned the key, pulled it out of the ignition, and then sat back against the leather seat. He inhaled, exhaled, closed his eyes, and opened them again. He knew Cas was staring at him now, probably wondering why they were still in the car. But then, Cas surprised him.

“You feel safe in here, don’t you?” he asked quietly, not a trace of judgment in his voice. Dean looked over to find Castiel’s eyes trained on his own, his head tilted slightly to the right, as if he were trying to process everything from Dean’s point of view in order to understand him. _He would,_ Dean thought, shaking his head before looking away.

“It’s ironic, I know, seeing as Sammy died--.” Dean’s voice caught in his throat. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to talk about it that easily. But Cas didn’t move to smother him or coddle him, so Dean swallowed before continuing. “– since he uh, died in here. Right...” Dean ran a hand over the steering wheel before dropping it back into his lap. His chest felt tight and his eyes burned, but he refused to cry again, “…here.”

He flinched suddenly when he felt a hand grab his own, but relaxed when he realized it was only Cas, trying to comfort him, _again._

“You’re sure you wanna be here?” Dean asked randomly, pulling his hand away. Although he was grateful that his best friend decided to come with him on his trip to nowhere, he was beginning to feel like a burden. “I could drive you back, ya know, if you change your mind.”

“Dean, stop it,” Cas sighed, “What do I have to say to convince you that I’m here because I _want_ to be? I want to be here for you, Dean. You need me.”

“I- .” Dean wanted to protest, but it was true, he’d said it himself. He did need Cas. He needed Cas the way he needed vitamins and minerals and beer and classic rock, and he probably wouldn’t have even made it to the house in one piece without him. But Dean didn’t mention any of that. Instead, he said, “You’re right. I’m -.”

“And don’t you dare even _think_ about apologizing.”

Dean had to smile at that. This time, when he looked up, Cas was smiling, too.

“You boys gonna sit in that car all night?”

Dean turned his head and spotted Bobby on the front steps on the house, hands in his pocket, looking the same as always. With one more glance at Cas, he stepped out of the car, Cas following suit. Bobby walked down the steps to greet them both.

“C’mere, you idjits,” he said before pulling both boys into a crushing hug. Dean was immediately reminded of the day after his father died, and how Bobby had hugged both Sam and Dean in the same fashion. He tried not to dwell on that, though; he wouldn’t be able to hold it together.

When Bobby released them, he stuck his hands back in his pockets and sighed. “Dinner’s almost ready, and the spare room is all fixed up for you guys. Go ahead and get your stuff up there, then wash up before coming down to eat, ya hear?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean and Cas answered simultaneously.

~

Cas returned from the hallway bathroom to find Dean sitting on his bed in their shared room, holding one of his many plaid shirts. He wanted to ask if Dean was okay, but the look on his face made it clear that he was not. So instead, Cas walked over to his side of the room and rummaged through his poorly thrown together suitcase, looking for a towel. After finding one, he dried his hands and face and hung the towel on the corner bed post.

The shirt Dean had in his hands was on his body by the time Cas turned back around. The buttons were still undone, and Dean’s fingers rubbed at each one.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Cas asked gently, taking a step forward, “Do you…need some help?”

“This was Sam’s shirt,” Dean said plainly, continuing his movements. “He gave it to me when he grew out of it. Damn overgrown kid,” Dean’s hands fell from his shirt and moved to cover his face, “Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

 _Oh, no,_ Cas thought, _here we go._ This, he was prepared for. Cas stepped close to Dean and pulled him up until he was standing. He moved Dean’s hands from his face and held his wrists so he couldn’t walk away.

“Hey,” Cas said firmly, shaking him once, “I know this is the hardest thing you’ve ever been through, by far, but you have _got_ to hold it together, okay? Just for dinner.”

“I don’t –.”

“You _can_ and you will, Dean. Sam wouldn’t want you crying in your food, now, would he?”

Dean half-coughed, half-laughed, and Cas considered that a success. “No, he wouldn’t,” Dean replied. “God, I’m such a mess.”

“And you have every right to be, but you must get a handle on it. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Cas responded with a smirk as he released Dean’s wrists and began to button his shirt, “I’m always right.”

Dean chuckled, but stood still so Cas could finish buttoning his top. Afterwards, he smoothed his hands over the fabric, over Dean’s chest and shoulders, and stopped abruptly when he realized what he was doing. _Fuck, am I feeling up my best friend?_

Cas cleared his throat. “So, dinner?”

Dean blinked a few times before nodding again, “Sounds great. Lead the way, Milton.”


End file.
